The Beauty of Harmony
by iloveslinky
Summary: Two-shot. IDOJ Fanfic challenge entry for January. Sheen seeks a way to prove to his father that he is not worthless. When chips are down, does Sheen realize that his father will love him anyway? Help from Libby could aid in bringing Sheen to love. S/L
1. Part One

**A/N:** I wrote this half (or third) of this story as an entry for the IDreamOfJimmy Forum's Fanfiction challenge for the month of January. This story is omitted from the "Most Reviews" circut and hopefully will be finished in the next few days.

I do not, haven't ever, or ever will own Jimmy Neutron, which _totally _sucks.

* * *

I stood in Principal Willoughby's office with my hands clasped together and brought into a praying position near my chin. Well, kneeled actually. 

"Please, let me in the school chorus!" I begged. I tried to muster up a few silvery tears. Perhaps they would sway the rotund, old man. "I've just _gotta_ prove to my father that I'm not useless!"

"Sheen," the geezer began, "I'm sure that there is some way, other than my precious choir, that you can prove you aren't useless. Write the Great American Novel, or something."

"F. Scott Iguana doesn't write anymore! He turned a horrible, sickly, green color, so I just _had_ to feed him!" I begged taking a grasp at the man's ankle and shaking it like there was no tomorrow once I seized it.

"You won't get in the school chorus with that nails-on-chalkboard voice of yours," Principal Willoughby said as he wriggled free of my clutch. "Get a tutor or something."

"A TUTOR?!" I gaped as I rose from my knees. My feet backed me out of the tiny office slowly as I tried to regain sane thought. I continued on in reverse until I hit Bolbi as he walked by, "shish-kabobby" in hand.

"Sheeny back up! Sheeny back up good," the foreign boy said after he pulled his (very pointy) shish-stick from my lower spine.

"Get lost, Bolbi!" I pointed a finger over my shoulder to emphasize my words.

"Losing," he said as he walked with a dazed expression into the Kindergarten Hallway.

"Hey, Sheen," said a voice on my left. My heart jumped in shock as my body took the position of the vagrant, puss-spitting monkey from Ultra Lord Episode 924, "When Math Teachers Go Bad."

"Calm down," said Carl from Jimmy's side. "It's only Jim and I."

"Me," corrected Jimmy.

"I'm here too!" Carl wailed as I let my fighting position melt into one of slight embarrassed.

"I meant that you have your sentence grammatically incorrect. You should have said 'Jimmy and me'," Jimmy completed.

"TOO CONFUSING!" I yelled just before I fell over onto the floor. My back ached as Jimmy and Carl picked me up in silence; my daily "brain fart," as we had come to call them, had developed a common routine amongst those around me.

"So, what'd Principal Willoughby have to say?" Carl asked; he remembers everything. Good _and_ bad.

"I got shot down again! They seem not to want my special brand of Twonkie-soothing talent," I said as the medication from that REALLY long needle that my dad shoved into me so very forcefully this morning began to take effect.

"Maybe you should get a tutor," Carl suggested as we began to advance home. After all, Ultra Lord was on in an hour.

"NO TUTOR!" Perhaps I need a stronger dosage.

"Why not?" Carl eyed Jimmy mischievously. Jimmy's lips spread to a smile. "Yeah, why not? Your tutor could be _Libby_."

I felt as my cheeks burned red; for a Mexican I sure show embarrassed easily.

"Where am I?" I heard from the Kindergarten Hallway as the Three Amigops passed by. Bolbi sometimes worries me.

"I'm not getting a music tutor, guys. Firstly, no Estevez gets a tutor for anything." Carl and Jimmy both grew matching, confused expressions as we passed through the school entryway. "Not for anything non-academic anyway."

"Oh."

"Well, you didn't mention that." Jimmy stepped down the front stairs with Carl and me in tow.

"What about that tutor you got when Yoo Yee kidnapped Libby?" Carl said turning to me.

"That was different; Libby's life was on the line! And, I couldn't let that fruit in pajamas steal my seat as the Chosen One," I said as I reached my right leg behind my neck. My left ear felt the chill of my toe.

Jimmy and Carl stared at me, both wide-eyed. "Ok, that's creepy," Carl stated.

Jimmy nodded in agreement. "Yeah, I know we've seen it a zillion times, but that still kind of creeps me out. Seeing that part of your jeans was never on the top of my priority list."

"I have stated before and I will state it again; I pledge allegiance to my pants!" I said as I released my leg from its grip around the back of my neck. "But, if I don't get into the choir, how am I gonna impress my dad! I don't think I can bear having only one thing on my life-long list of accomplishments!"

"What's that, Sheen?" Jimmy said with a sincere tone.

I rose up my hands and propped them on the sides of my head. "Memorizing every episode of Ultra Lord ever made! I know every single line by heart including the actions in which the current characters were doing, what weapons were used, in a battle what order the punches were thrown in, and so on! But my dad's not impressed by that kind of stuff anyway, so what's the point?!" My heart bled in sadness as I remembered the night before:

_"Sheen," Dad looked at me with dark eyes as he held my sorry report card in his hand. "You need to get your grades up. Do you want to spend the rest of your life as a gas station attendant? I don't want to see mí hijo spend his life alone because he cannot support a familia."_

_My eyes trailed down to the floor as I thought of the stuttering report card. D, D, D, D, D, D. __A giant lump formed in my heart and worked its way up through my throat. My eyes burned as the corners of my mouth gained twenty pounds and headed south. "I-I'm sorry, Dad. I really do try, but I can't concentrate. And with Jimmy's large hair in my way-"_

_"__¿__Tú__ miras__ el pizarron?"_

_"No, I get distracted by trying to count how many hairs he has and trying to calculate how much mousse he uses to get it in such a shape," I sniffled deeply and closed my eyes. "I'm sorry, Dad, but academics aren't my thing. I would like to be in the chorus but apparently I'm terrible."_

_"Who told you that?" Dad said with an astonished frown._

_"Miss Fowl and Principal Willoughby," I replied._

_Dad cupped my chin in his hand and gently raised my view to his eyes. "No one can tell my Sheen that he is useless and terrible. No one. Don't let anyone ever say such a thing to you, my son."_

_I looked into Dad's eyes and saw determination. But behind the thin layer I saw another part of my father's mind that I did not want to see. I saw that he thought the same of me that everyone else did._

"Sheen, I'm sure your dad would be proud of you no matter what happened," Jimmy said with the same expression of disappointment and determination that my father had given me only the night before.

"Try telling him that. He acts as though he's proud of me and stuff, but I can see through his charade," I said with a deep sigh.

"Then get a tutor. If you really wanted your dad to be proud of you, then accepting a little help from another to get you there wouldn't be all that bad," Carl said after we had crossed the street between the school and the sidewalk to our homes.

I sighed and pulled my defenses down. "Maybe a tutor would be the smart thing to do."

"Great, then I'll come over later around six and give you singing lessons," Carl said just before he put his hand to his stomach for support and released a great bellow of rigid song that frightened a flock of birds out of their perch in a nearby tree. I was pretty sure I heard a few cats scamper off in an alleyway at light speed: possibly faster.

"No, no, no," Jimmy said after he placed a soft karate chop to Carl's middle to cease the horrible sound. "I'll get you a circuit to the Ultra Shock Dance Teacher with all the best singers' techniques on it."

"Thanks for the offers, guys, but I think I should earn this rather than cheat it off. You know, conscience and stuff." I sighed deeply and looked to the sky.

"Then call Libby later and ask for lessons."

"Yeah, she's into that stuff. I'm sure she'd be more than happy to help you," Jimmy said backing up Carl's statement.

"No way!" I jumped in between the two and their destination, halting them in their tracks. "I'll never let my sweet Libby learn that I can't sing! Can you imagine what she'd think of me?! It would be like showing Elkie that picture of Carl from Ike's party!"

Carl quivered in fear. "W-which one?"

"The one with the bubbles!"

Carl sunk behind his hands that shielded his face. "You wouldn't," he whispered.

"Or, it would be like telling Betty that Jimmy's really four feet, five inches instead of four, six and a half like he's been telling everyone else!" I screeched as I pointed a bony finger at the genius who possessed a terrified expression.

"I don't wear lifts, it just looks that way because I have thick soled shoes!" Jimmy exclaimed.

"Dude, I never said you did," I slipped back to the right side of the pack and admitted Carl and Jimmy to continue on our journey to our respective homes.

Jimmy's eyes faded away for a second as he tried to come up with a solution to my unsolvable problem. "I can't think of anyone other than Libby that's talented enough to give you the go around in music."

"Neither can I. And if Libby really liked you then she shouldn't care if you can sing or not. She likes your Ultra Lord obsessing, overly ADD like, daily spasms just the way they are. You should never have to change for a girl. If you do, however, then it was never meant to be." Jeez, that Carl can sometimes pop my buttons with all this Zen philosophy that he dishes out.

I sighed as my defenses wore down. "Maybe you're right, Carl. Perhaps Libby is my only shot."

"Call her tonight and ask," Jimmy said as we neared his house on the Vortex side of the Cul-de-sac. "But my house is right here and Miss Fowl piled on the homework. I gotta get cracking. Also, my new renovations for the Flycycle make the old method of Goddard flying obsolete. I'll see you tomorrow, Sheen."

"See ya, Sheen, and good luck," Carl said with a supportive thumbs up as he and Jimmy crossed the street to their neighboring homes.

I continued on to my house in desolate silence. Maybe they were right, but then again, I could always go down to the ACMY across town and pay for the lessons they have there. This option seemed out of the picture as my heart began to sink with the realization that I have no money.

I reached the end of the cul-de-sac where my two-story home stood. I walked up the driveway and onto the porch. I paused as I considered sitting down on the bench that Dad had placed out there a few summers ago. Something about watching the sun set. All I ever saw from there was Jimmy's rocket as it launched into space every Monday. He said something about a probe on Venus that the International Space Station and Huston weren't quite so aware of.

I pushed on inside and let the cool relief of air conditioning wipe through my pores. Good old Dad and his love for rotary coils with original grease and such.

"Son? Is that you?" I heard a deep voice dripping with a Spanish accent call from the kitchen.

"Dad? What are you doing at home so early?" I asked as I passed through the foyer and living room to the kitchen in the back.

"One of my clients went to Jamaica for a month and forgot to tell me. I found that out just today because they called me a few minutes before I was supposed to be there. I had not enough time for another appointment and that was my last for the day. I'm off until tomorrow," Dad shrugged as he pulled a Purple Flurp from the fridge and poured it into a tall glass of ice for me.

"Thanks, Dad," I said as I took the violet fluid and downed it in a few gulps.

"So, tell me son, what do you want to do today?" he asked with a small sparkle in his eye.

"I don't know. I have a lot of homework and I really want to raise my grades to make you proud of me," I said after I finished the glass. Only purple tinted ice was left when I placed the cup on the counter.

"Aye, yae, yae. You should know that I would rather have you happy than have a straight-A student," Dad said as he reached over and tousled my hair.

"But I really want to prove to you that I'm not worthless, Dad," I said while I straightened my tediously spiked hair into its original glory.

Dad's face fell and took on an aged wrinkle. His eyes traveled to the tiled countertop as he wiped a damp towel along its face. "Hijo, I understand, but you said yourself that academics are not your thing. Maybe you should play baseball or something."

"Maybe you're right," I said and my eyes fell. I turned and slowly climbed the stairs to my room in silence keeping my eyes fixated on my feet the entire time.

Once inside the sanctity of my Ultra Lord decked room I threw my back pack and accompanying Ultra Lord onto the floor at the foot of my bed and threw myself face down onto the soft bed that stood off the center of the wall.

At first I doubted Libby as my tutor, but now I had a paradox plaguing me. It was either my father or my Libby. One or both of them had to be let down.

Multiple scenarios ran through my mind at light speed as I evaluated the problem before me. Singing was my best shot at getting my dad happy. Not only would it be easy to conquer, but also I enjoyed it already, and I wished to be on the school choir. But if I did employ my dear Libby and take lessons from her then I would be faced with the ever arduous load of learning to sing and succeeding. If I didn't succeed at Libby's hand then I would have let down Libby, my Dad, and myself.

I knew that academics weren't my thing and the only time I ever won at a sport was when Jimmy Neutronized our bats and gloves that time I was in the Retroville Nine. I can't make art to save my life. And even when I do it's always about Ultra Lord, something –or someone- that Dad is not impressed with. I'm not one set out for joining a club lest it be the Ultra Lord fan club (though I'm already enrolled in forty-seven clubs to date) or the Your-Best-Friend-Saves-the-World-Every-Other-Week-After-He-Puts-It-In-Danger-When-One-of-His-Stupid-Inventions-Goes-Horribly-Wrong Club, and even then Dad wouldn't be proud of me.

I was at an impasse as my eyes began to cloud over.

Maybe Carl was right.

* * *

**A/N: **¿Té gusta? 

iloveslinky


	2. Part Two

**A/N:** I'm not nearly finished with this but felt that I should post it before I forget.

I don't own Jimmy. Pie. Chicken. Orange juice.

* * *

The phone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Three times. My throat clenched together as I pulled my index finger to the button with a picture of a red phone on it. I almost activated the command before I heard a musical voice sing through the receiver.

"Hello?" My eyes grew large, and my voice disappeared.

"Hello?" the voice repeated after a few seconds, this time with question rigid in its tone.

"Hi, Mrs. Folfax," I said and I heard a sigh of relief on the other end of the line.

"Oh, Sheen, sweet chile'," Mrs. Folfax said with relief. "I thought someone was going to say something odd like 'you're gonna die on seven days' or something of the like."

I let out a small laugh. "No, Mrs. F, I just forgot my voice for a few seconds. And you've been watching too many horror movies."

The few times I had met the woman, I had liked Mrs. Folfax. She was kind and possessed the same sweet smile that her daughter had me captivated with. Mrs. Folfax had kind, light brown eyes with all the sympathy in the world. Sure, she was a stay at home mother, but something about her, I couldn't put my finger on it the first time I met her and I still can't to this day, makes me feel like she could survive anything. Jimmy possessed the same indestructible trait that made him invincible.

Mrs. Folfax chuckled lightly. "Perhaps I have, and I can only assume that you called to speak with my daughter. Am I correct in my assumption or did you call for no reason?" she asked with a girlish bounce in her speech.

"Not that I don't love talking with you, Mrs. Folfax, but I need to ask Libby something very important," I said. Oops, that might have come out wrong.

She gasped as though she thought I was going to ask Libby to marry me. Heh, heh, not for another ten years. I heard hurried voices on the other side of the receiver as Mrs. Folfax found Libby and ushered her to the phone. A hushed voice told Libby that I was here and had something to ask her.

"Hey, Sheen." I heard a few moments later. My sweet, sweet Libby was on the line and the worries that had been plaguing me flew straight from my mind.

"Hey, Libby. What's up?"

"Nothing much, but my mom said you wanted to ask me something. What was it?" Libby said. Jeez, she sure got straight to the point.

"Uh, yeah, about that," my sweat glands began to work overtime as my brain began to malfunction.

"Sheen, I already told you, I'm not going on a date to the talent show this Friday with you," Libby said. I almost laughed in the irony of her words.

"No, it's not that," I said with a tiny smile on my face as the original fear drove away. "I-I want to ask you something more important." I could almost hear Libby furrow her brow in slight shock and question on the other end of the line. "I wanted to know if you were still doing music lessons."

Libby's voice stuttered a bit in shock. "Y-yeah, Sheen, I still am, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, we all know that I can't sing to save my life," I paused. "Or really do _anything _to save my life. That's usually Jimmy's job. But, anyway, would you mind giving me lessons? I'd like to enter the talent show and prove to my dad that I'm not worthless by winning first prize.

"Oh, and about the money; I'll be willing to pay you for lessons, but you'd have to put a rain check on the money. I'll work for Estevez Air Conditioning, not only will it make Dad happy, but I'll pay for my lessons as well," I said as I picked up my most prized Ultra Lord action figure (**A/N:** Not Melty Face. Remember, Libby still has him) and began to fly him through the air while making sound effects in my head.

"Sheen, don't worry about the money. I'd be more than willing to give you lessons for free. What are friends for, right?" Libby asked with a sweet tone.

I sighed deeply in relief as my problems were on the mend. "Thanks, Libby. Thank you so, so much!"

"You're welcome, Sheen," Libby said.

I hung up the phone by pressing that same red button that I had almost activated earlier. In retrospect, my actions at the beginning of the call seemed rash and unplanned. I laughed as I placed the cordless phone on its purple Ultra Lord cradle (phone and cradle only available in Japan at fine toy stores. Yeah, my dad said that when he bought it there was this other man buying some furry, little animal and the shopkeeper was telling the guy not to feed it after midnight. Hm, I wonder what happens.) and laid my head on the pillow with a smile on my face.

A few moments later I had a revelation.

The phone rang. I picked it up on the first ring.

"Libby?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Heh, heh, sorry about that!"

In our second call we decided that we would meet every day after school between now and try-outs next Thursday. We had a little less than a week, but I hoped that my Libby would have enough talent to have me ready by the time the clock counted down on Thursday.

* * *

**A/N:** This isn't NEARLY as long as I hoped it would be. I expected it to be, at least, half as long as part one was! Oops! But, ADD has the best of me, and I can't seem to concentrate long enough to finish this fic! I do promise, however, that it will be finished before the end of the month! Thanks for reading!!!

iloveslinky


	3. Part Three

**A/N:** Ok, um... I lied? I was only a day late! I hope you enjoy! Also, I'll be posting a short Epilogue later. I just felt that this segment _had_ to end here!

Yes, I am a Farily OddParents fan.

I don't own Jimmy or his fellow Retrovillians. I also don't own any of the other copy written products mentioned here.

* * *

The day following the phone call to Libby was Friday. As promised, Libby took me over to her house and sat herself down in front of a piano. She looked me square in the eyes with a no nonsense gaze. 

"Are you going to do the best you can? Try at least?"

"I will, I will," I promised.

The soft brown returned to her eyes in a flush. "Good, in order for you to learn first you must be willing."

"I understand," I uttered for one of the first times in my short life. A smile cracked upon Libby's face and she turned her gaze to the grand piano.

"So, how are you going to pull this off?" she asked while her fingers played a light, jaunty tune.

"What do you mean?"

"How are you going to convince Willoughby to get you in the chorus, even if you do win?" She let her gaze wander to me after I stood and leaned against the bass end of the piano. Her right brow was lifted in question while a smile played on her lips.

"I thought that, after he saw me singing he'd," I shrugged, "you know, let me in."

Libby looked back at her fingers as they danced across the black-and-white keys.

"You don't think it'll work, do you?" I asked.

Libby set her lips and furrowed her brow. "No, it's not that. I just think that you might want to consider a sturdier plan. The one you have involves a great variable."

"Variable?"

"Never mind." She sighed. "So what do you want to sing?"

I hadn't thought that part through. The Ultra Lord theme song ran through my mind several times before I discarded it; for that, Ultra Lord would not be pleased. I didn't care; I needed my father's support. "Do you have something?"

Libby's fingers began another tune, this one slow and sensual. "I might, but do you mind singing a ballad?"

"Ballad?"

"A love song."

"Is it a love song to Ultra Lord?!" I asked while I puffed my chest out and stuck my balled fists to my hips in order to display my tribute to the hero.

"No, Sheen," Libby chuckled and her fingers began to speed up the song. "Like, singing a love song to a girl you like or something. Not to Ultra Lord," she scoffed.

I furrowed my brow. Or, at least, the skin above my eyes. "I could do that."

"Then I could help you." Libby stood from the small, wooden bench and plucked out a pink booklet of sheet music from the compartment within her seat. "This might be good."

That afternoon Libby and I spent countless hours working on the song she had chosen for me to sing until my dad called Mrs. Folfax to send me home for dinner; he had made enchiladas!

The next day, Saturday, Mr. and Mrs. Folfax were off work. I came over with my copy of the sheet music Libby had given me. I couldn't read it, but the words were there. That always came in handy. Mr. and Mrs. Folfax, after hearing about thirty minutes of my screeching, decided to take a spur-of-the-moment day trip to the mall. It didn't matter because I couldn't focus on anything but the song.

Little progress was made on Saturday lest my learning of all the words. A few of the notes still became lost in the deep recesses of my mind, but I still felt vaguely proud of myself. That night Libby told me to keep practicing, but she wouldn't see me until tomorrow afternoon; she had church to attend in the morning.

Sunday afternoon was spent half singing and half doing our homework. Although Libby was no genius as Jimmy was, she still knew a lot more than I did on most everything. She assisted in my homework, and I assisted in making her smile.

Monday rolled around followed by Monday after noon. My voice began to smooth out some of its wrinkles though it still didn't "caress the ears like a summer breeze" as I hoped it would. No worries, I still had the rest of the week to go, right?

During our afternoon practice sessions, I fell more and more entranced by Libby. She was so talented and everything I wished I could be. But over all the things I admired about her, the smile is what caught me the most. Acting like a tonic, she could convince me to do anything. At the moment, however, it was singing the current vowel correctly, though I had no idea what a vowel could possibly be Libby insisted the 'o' that was sung was made by a mouth of the same shape; then it would sound right.

Hard work had coursed through my veins for the first time in my life. I began to concentrate in school rather than calculate how big a hat would have to be in order to be too big for Jimmy. Miss Fowl's words began to ring in my ears, in a good way, and they stayed for the tests. Another breakthrough came when I achieved my first 'B' ever.

I showed it to Dad and he was thrilled for his "hijo." He patted me on the head and told me to keep it up. He was so happy that he posted the test on the refrigerator with my favorite Ultra Lord magnet. I knew that keeping up such a streak couldn't last long though.

Tuesday and Wednesday rolled by in a blur. I had learned all the words and notes to the song, but was still shaking in my Converse. I was so afraid that I was going to mess up. Libby told me to "take long, deep breaths slowly" and be confident in myself.

As supportive of me as she was, I still was visibly shaking when I showed up at try-outs on Thursday. Jimmy and Carl had come to root me on as well and sat in the front row of the auditorium's staged seating next to Libby. Principal Willoughby and Miss Fowl sat at a small, wooden table with clip-boards and pens. Both wore less than excited stares as I took my place on stage.

"Sheen, I already told you-"Principal Willoughby began.

"I got lessons. I've changed!" I cried from the stage with the sheet music in my hands. Jimmy and Carl both gave me thumbs-ups from just behind Willoughby's head, while Libby sat there biting her nails nervously. I couldn't fail her.

"Let him sing, Principal Willoughby," Libby spoke up softly.

The old man sighed. "All right, Sheen. You can try-out, but remember that not everyone gets into the talent show." He leaned to Miss Fowl, "Or my precious choir."

I nodded in reply as my throat was clenching up in nervousness. _You can do this._

All of a sudden I heard the beginning notes of my song start to sing their own melody, and I took the breaths as advised and performed from there.

Friday morning I stood outside Principal Willoughby's office window where the list of performers would be posted. I was just as nervous as I had been the day before, at try-outs. My eyes couldn't track for a while, and when people would speak to me I'd no idea what they were saying.

Principal Willoughby hummed lightly as he emerged from his office, piece of paper and tape in hand. It seemed that he took his fine time in moving out of the way of the results. When he finally did my brain felt as though Jimmy had just drained it.

I couldn't feel my feet, and the words on the page seemed to blend together into nothingness. My head felt light as though it would eventually disembody itself and float into space.

After standing in shock for a few minutes, I realized that I needed to be at Miss Fowl's door to meet Carl and Jimmy before class. I had also promised Libby that I'd tell her if I'd gotten in or not.

"Hey, Sheen," Carl said while he and Jimmy walked up to me.

"Uh," I grunted in reply, still too dazed to create a complete sentence.

"Did you make it?" Jimmy asked me.

"Uh," I grunted again.

Libby walked up to us with Cindy and a smile on her face. "Hey, Sheen. Has Willoughby posted the results?"

I thrust a thumb over my shoulder towards his office. They all stared at me as though I was crazy until Libby decided she'd check the postings herself.

A few moments later a shrill, exited scream rang in my ears. Libby bounced back to me and thrust me in a great hug. "Oh my gosh!"

I smiled as feeling began to erupt after the initial wave of shock. "Thank you so, so much!" I said and wrapped my arms around her to show my gratitude.

Jimmy, Carl, and Cindy returned from the postings. Jimmy and Carl wore a smile and Cindy scowled. She was in the show too, but the thought of me there must have slumped her enthusiasm.

I was glad that I was in the show, but I held mixed feelings. My dad would be proud that I had even made it past the first level without dying. I just wondered how proud he'd be when I threw up on stage from nervousness.

Libby and I stood backstage. She straightened my shirt, the one with the tuxedo painted on the front, and made sure I looked fine. I couldn't calm down at all the entire time. I was to be the next-to-last performance, and waiting all that time was excruciating.

I glanced out of the curtain a tiny bit to find my dad. Sure enough, he sat in the front row alongside Mr. and Mrs. Neutron and Jimmy. The latter wasn't in the Talent Show, but the group felt they should go and support me anyway.

"Don't freak yourself out, Sheen," Libby said after I told her about my father. "You'll do great, and your father will be proud that you even showed up tonight."

"But what if I-"

"Sheen," Libby said plainly. I ceased talking. "Don't sweat the 'what-ifs.' Most of the time they don't even come true."

"But what if they do?!"

"Just don't sweat it, ok? Now, you're up next." I could hear the end of the song being played by Bolbi's goat and being danced to by Bolbi himself die down. Clapping erupted, and Willoughby appeared on stage.

"Nice one, Bolbi! Next time just watch out for that pepper, and we'll all be happier, especially me." He sported a great black eye-patch like that of a pirate. "Next up we have our very own Sheen Estevez singing "Laughing with You."

I took a deep breath, and Libby prodded me in the back. My legs felt like pudding, but I proceeded anyway. I could hear as Libby's feet scampered to the opposite side of the stage.

"Thank you, Principal Willoughby," I said into the microphone that Miss Fowl had given me.

A song began playing, but it didn't sound like mine. I was about to alert the sound crew until I saw Libby walk in from the opposite side of the stage. My nervousness subsided instantly. She gave me a small wink and pulled a microphone to her lips.

_"_ _I was lost_

_'Till he found me._

_And, although he confounds me,_

_By this clown_

_Is where I know I should be._

_Yes, I know he's a moron_

_With a brain made of boron,_

_And yet, I'm drawn to him magically_," Libby turned from the crowd to Sheen with a smile. Sheen's heart soared.

"_And through every moment of turmoil_," she continued.

"_And moment of pain_

_Through all of our misadventures_

_One thing remains _

_"__Facing Goobot, Ooblar, and Poultra_

_I'll never be blue_

_As long as I'm __laughing_

_With you_."

Sheen heard the beginning of the song that he was familiar with. Libby gave a small nod and a smile to him. He returned the smile and inhaled.

"_I saw her and no ot__her_

_I still lived with my brother_

_When I spotted her purdy black__ hair_

_Though my shoes sme__ll like tar pits,_

_And I don't wash my armpits._

_I like monkeys too much,_

_But I know she doesn't care_." Sheen blushed when he realized that Libby had been planning this all along. He had to admit that he half-hoped it would happen as well.

_"__And I know that I'm forgetful_

_I know I'm dim._

_And__ even though _

_I've just eaten_

_I know I'll swim _

_"__I know that it doesn't matter_

_If I can't count to two_

_As long __as __I'm laughing_

_With you_."

Libby had a mischievous smile on her face as Sheen began his next chorus.

"_Even though we're neck deep__ here_," the two sang in harmony,

"_And love might make us weep__ here_

_Here with you, dear,__ is_

_Where we both make our stand_." Sheen fell silent; their sound was so much better than any of his solo practice sessions.

"_I am braced for attack and_"

"_Knowing she has my back e__nd_"

They sung together once more. "_All__ I need is your hand_

_In my hand_."

"_Baby, I know__ that __I__'m eccentric_," Sheen sung as he and Libby met in the middle of the stage.

Libby smiled. "_I know you're 'centric too_."

"I_ know I'm __not a black chick_,"

"Oh, man is that true," Libby spoke into the microphone. "_But one thing I'm understanding_," she sang.

"_No matter what we go through_

_I'd rather go through it_

_I know__ I'll get through it_

_I__f I'm laugh__ing through it_

_With you_," the two finished the song; a perfect example of the beauty of harmony.

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you likey! 

iloveslinky


End file.
